


would have, could have, should have

by BlackCats



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCats/pseuds/BlackCats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She keeps the photograph; waits for the right moment.<br/>(Max, Chloe, and the calm before the storm.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	would have, could have, should have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sigrdrifa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigrdrifa/gifts).



Having options? It could be positively _paralyzing_.

Max pondered it sometimes. Stared at photographs pinched tightly between two fingers, contemplated changing the past despite her promise not to. If she closed her eyes and tilted her head just right, sometimes she _swore_ she could hear the low whir of that alternate Chloe’s chair, and in her dreams, she—

She could hear a monitor flat-lining, even though no such thing had happened.

The sound reverbed throughout her all the same.

A long, high, insistent beep that escalated into the roar of the waves, the thunderous tumult of a tornado a dozen stories tall.

Big changes. Little changes. Enormous outcomes, all the same.

_Maybe life’s trying to teach me a lesson or something._

But if she was never supposed to save Chloe Price, then why had her powers awakened in the first place on that fateful day? A gunshot. A scream. Nathan Prescott.

One _tiny_ thing, and nothing would ever be the same again.

It was why, ultimately, Max had set that picture of her father and the Space Needle back on her wall. She had debated the tiniest of alterations…

Staying in touch with Chloe after leaving Arcadia Bay, through any means necessary.

Something told her it still wouldn’t have mattered, in the end.

But there were _so many_ what-ifs in the world, and she almost went to Chloe over it. Asked her what she thought. She could already hear the response, biting and bristly, the same as she always became whenever the oh-so-touchy subject was breached.

_Maybe…Chloe isn’t one for what-ifs._

She watched her hop from one rocky boulder to another on the beach, scrambling around seaweed and seagulls, arms outstretched. The way the golden twilight framed her, all perfect and resplendent, had Max practically diving for her camera.

The flash went off without a hitch, and Chloe looked up, rolling her eyes, but made no further protest.

Max shook the photo out absently.

 _Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she_ is _one for what-ifs. Maybe Chloe’s pondered so many what-ifs, they’ve made her all bitter and torn-up inside. Maybe…that’s all she really thought about._

Chloe hopped down, looking over her shoulder at the fading sun, appearing every bit as thoughtful as Max.

_I wonder how many of them involved Rachel Amber._

Max kept her gaze on Chloe even as the other girl made her ambling way over, kicking loose shells and shale away, shoulders hunched against the ocean’s chill.

 _I wonder how many of them involved_ me _?_

“Well, are you satisfied?” Chloe started, voice warm with humor but deeply barbed. “Us, all the way out here, freezing our _asses_ off, probably about to get caught up in the world’s _worst_ thunderstorm…”

She sighed, reaching out to clap Max’s shoulder; her grin lit up a bright space in Max’s chest. Made her heart feel warm.

“But hey, anything for the perfect shot, right? C’mon, let’s get back. There’s one helluva storm coming…”

Whether or not Chloe intentionally echoed her from a few days before, she wasn’t certain, but Max tailed after her slowly as they made their way back to the truck. She should be rushing. Running. They were running out of time, the tornado was due to arrive within a day, but she—

She _needed_ to savor the moment. A least for a little while.

Into the truck. Door opened, worn-out seats complaining at the meager weight of the passengers, the engine groaning in protest at being forced to start. It was all already so _familiar_.

Max gave Chloe a sideways glance.

It was funny. When they used to talk about crushes, it’d be about the skater bros, or popular musicians. When they talked about love, it’d be with one eye on Joyce and the other on William; Max’s eyes on poems and Chloe’s ears to music.

She was expecting love to be a ridiculous _rush_ —and it was, sometimes, but it was also _this_.

It was an old truck on a backwoods road in a town equal parts stranger and home, with a girl at her side slamming the steering wheel _a bit_ too enthusiastically to music that was _a bit_ too loud; it was that bright feeling settling over her like a shroud, and the bravery it invited to sing along.

It was the thoughtfulness she had when removing that photo so recently taken—Chloe, against the sea, storm clouds and twilight forming and menacing…but _fearless_. So, _so_ fearless.

And she wondered—

If you could say _“I love you”_ with a picture, and how many times it'd take to get right.

Chloe said it herself.

_Anything for the perfect shot._

**Author's Note:**

> Written at 2:30am with little purpose besides to tiptoe into a new fandom; this game has taken over my life so expect some more substantial stuff from me soon, if you enjoyed this one!


End file.
